Tadaima
by Keirou
Summary: A continuation of A Hidden Truth: Hughes finally comes home to his family.


He stood outside the apartment building, looking up at the stonework until his eyes found a specific window. The curtains hanging there hadn't changed in the past five or six years, still the same color he remembered, and the light burning behind them was just as warm and inviting as it had always looked. It was a strange sensation, in a way, that sense that nothing here had changed when so much had elsewhere. And it was an even stranger sensation for him to realize that, for one of the few times in his thirty-four years of life, he was actually nervous.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his overcoat he headed inside, up the wooden staircase that bore a little more wear, a little more of a patina than it had the last time he'd seen it. The walls were perhaps a little more faded, in that lived-in way that suggested the building was still very full of life, and the journey up to the third floor took almost no time at all. And then he was standing in front of a door he knew like an old friend.

He hesitated, nervousness spiking. Over five years ago he had walked out that door to cheerful farewells. Over five years ago, he'd said he might be back late due to work. Over five years ago he had walked out of that door and into the day that had changed everything for him. And now he was back and uncertain how to proceed.

Should he simply walk in? Would the door be unlocked for him to do that? Even if it was, was that a good idea? He'd left instructions years ago on what to do if someone came in unannounced, had had an emergency kit set up and waiting in the event his work somehow followed him home one day; he'd never been one to leave much to chance. And he knew his wife, knew what sort of woman she was. She wouldn't hesitate, not if she felt her family was threatened.

Should he knock, then? It was an odd feeling, thinking he should knock at his own door, but perhaps it would be for the best. There would be no getting around the fact he'd be giving her a heart attack, suddenly showing up after all these years without so much as a word. After all, he was supposed to be dead. There was a gravestone with his name on it in Central Memorial Cemetery, he'd seen it. And hadn't that been an eerie feeling, looking down at his own grave; almost as eerie as seeing a copy of himself lying dead on the street.

Taking a breath he squared his shoulders, already running through possible lines in his mind. He'd have to prove it was him; it had been a shapeshifter that had tried to kill him, and while he had no idea if she knew that or not she'd want some assurance regardless. His mind was still working as he raised a hand, knocking softly on the wooden door.

It seemed almost an eternity before he heard soft footsteps on the other side and the sound of the lock being drawn back. And then the door opened, revealing a face that had been in his thoughts every day for the past five years. She looked older, more careworn than she had last time he'd seen her, but no less beautiful. His face softened into a smile simply out of reflex, though it saddened slightly as her eyes widened, the color draining from her face. "...I wasn't expecting to be this late," he said softly. "I'm sorry..."

"...Maes...?" her voice was barely a whisper, tears coming to her eyes.

Everything he'd thought of, his planned words, flew out the window in the face of her tears. He'd once sworn that he would never make her cry, that he would do everything to make her happy, and here he was breaking that promise for the second time. He stepped forward, pulling her close. "It's me," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "It's really me, Gracia..."

Feeling her arms slide around him he just held her closer, eyes shut tightly to keep his own tears in even as he felt hers soaking through his shirt. "I'm sorry...I am so sorry..." There was no way he could make up for what he'd done, leaving the way he had, but he'd had no choice. Not if he'd been going to keep his promises to her and to Roy. His arms tightened around her, the sheer relief at being able to hold her again almost overwhelming. And then another voice came from inside the apartment.

"Mama? Who's there?"

He went still, eyes flying open to look over Gracia's shoulder at the young girl now standing in the living room. She'd grown so much from the little three year old he'd left...what was she now, eight? Nine? Her hair, so much like her mother's, was longer now and worn loose rather than the little pigtails he remembered so well, though her eyes still held that same light, bright and curious and open. A sudden fear passed through him as he stared at her. She'd been so young...would she remember him?

In his arms, Gracia looked up then pulled away, taking his arm and gently guiding him inside. He didn't need any further urging, stepping through and barely listening to the door closing behind him. His eyes were on his daughter, looking so grown up. He'd missed so much...five full years...her first day of school, learning how to read, how to write, so many milestones gone by.

She blinked up at him for a moment, then her eyes widened and she glanced over at the mantelpiece. He followed her gaze to see a picture of himself, simply dressed in a white shirt, and glanced at Gracia who simply smiled at him. His expression softened in quiet relief and gratitude. Of course she wouldn't have let their daughter forget her father...he'd aged over the years, sure, but he was still the man in that picture.

His eyes returned to his daughter, who was now staring at him with wide eyes. "...Papa...?"

"Hey there, sweetheart..."

"But..." her eyes flicked to Gracia, who just nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. That seemed to be enough to convince her, at least for now. "Papa!" she ran forward and he caught her in a hug, swinging her around. She'd gotten so much bigger, but he still picked her up, holding her tight just as he had before he'd left, his beard scratching gently against her cheek. She giggled, rubbing against his jawline. "It tickles!"

"My little Elicia..." He gave her a gentle squeeze, pulling back to look at her. "You've grown so much, look at you..."

"What happened?" she asked, looking up at him curiously. "Mama always said-"

"I know," he cut her off, his voice gentle. "I know she did. I promise I'll tell you what happened, but later, okay?"

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Elicia thought about it for a moment, then just nodded. "It's a promise, then," she said, as if that was the end of it.

He nodded as well, setting her down and resting a hand on her head. "I'm sorry I've been away..."

"Will you have to leave again?"

"Not if I can help it." He pulled them both into another hug, resting his head against Gracia's.

"Welcome home, honey." Gracia's voice was soft, and the words brought the threatening tears back again. Home...

Maes Hughes let his eyes closed, holding his wife and daughter close. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm home."


End file.
